Band of Porters

The journey from Ubersreik was long, uncomfortable, and more than a little boring. The road took you through the fertile foothills of the Vorbergland and through the village of Geissbach. The weather was sunny and warm, the road was dry, and you made good time.
Herr Hendrick spent most of the journey complaining about the remoteness of Grunewald Lodge, the deficiencies of rural folk, and the pain of his injury. After leaving Geissbach, the road entered the Reikwald Forest, the Grey Mountains to the south disappearing behind the dark forest canopy.
As the gloom deepened, Herr Hendrick ceased his complaints and stopped talking altogether. His eyes would dart all around, and he startled at the slightest rustling of leaves or cry of a woodland creature.
In the deepening darkness some spotted a flash of angry red eyes from the gloom and a man-sized dark shape flitting through the undergrowth.
Finally, the wagon enters a large clearing in the forest, interrupted by a twelve foot high, ivy-covered stone wall. Parts of the wall giving way to time and abuse have been haphazardly reinforced with board and rail.
A guard in a mail shirt and pot-helmet and wielding a crossbow patrols the top of the wall. The wall is surrounded by a wide, overgrown ditch. Double wide metal reinforced wooden doors secure the entrance. An aged tower with a conical roof top, surveys from inside the compound. Another guard, similarly armed and armoured, unwinds low-browed conversation with the first.
Hedrick ordered the gate open from the clearings edge when suddenly a guttural howl rose from the forest and brambles ahead! Several misshapen humanoid forms emerged from the undergrowth and burst from behind scrub. Some had twisted, cloven hooves and bestial faces, patches of mangy fur on their bodies, and the nubs of stunted horns on their heads. But between them strode a larger, more powerful form with the head of a ram and proud, curling horns. The creature bared blood-stained fangs and howled a challenge. At this, the beastmen leapt to the attack!
Ironbreaker Yarekson spared no time in closing with the largest of the herd, cleaving deep into its fur-mottled flesh! The high-elf huntress stood tall from atop the high stacked wagon and shot an arrow just inches from the Yarekson’s ruddy ear, striking deep into a nearby shrub! Then a like the sun itself, from behind the elf a great lighted bolt of light shon forth and struck the once mighty brute, dropping it forward at the dwarfs feet appropriate for a foe beaten badly.
But as the party focused on the leader, its minions dutifully moved in like able footed upright speeding goats. The wizard, having spent great energy still managed to catch one with his staff, amazed at the quick climb it made in no time at all! Another tried to scrabble up port side but took a tumble after a hoof-to-wheel mishap. Finally the last goat-legged fellow bit and scratched at Otto in the brush but the able street scamp didn’t let it go without a just repost, catching the stump-horned beastman off his guard.
The sounds of combat, the smell of roast beast and the twinge of magic wrinkling the hot summer currents falls silent for a half a breath as from behind, a second guttural howl shudders from the dark woods!

(sorry this is late, and half-ass – been swamped. LOOK FORWARD TO SATURDAY!!)

Another day, another kick to the codpiece.

After months of laying low and healing up, Wolfgang should have expected I’d be a little rusty. The bottom line? I had a hard time following through with the job when I found out who the customer was. Believe it or not, I do have a code of ethics. Anyway, the moment I stood my ground, Wolfgang blackballed me. Asshole.

Considering I’m flat broke, I should be happy that he gave me one last score before “separating ways”. I don’t know if “score” is the right word. It feels more like extortion. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…yep the more I think about it; I’m definitely being extorted. I’m supposed to help some rich guy move. Technically speaking I AM a mover, but this is a legit venture. I’m supposed to use the job as a ruse to appropriate an item and turn it back over to my employer. If I do it, they let Heindrich live. If not, he’s dead. I guess I don’t have a choice.

So, after a few days on the road (I pretty much used up all of my money on travel), I ended up in Ubersreik. A quaint little shithole. Looking back, I remember spending a week there one night.

The interview was at a quaint little tavern called the Red Moon Inn. I was smothered by a delightful wait staff, and accosted by their menu of old world delicacies. What it lacked in charm, it more than made up for in bacteria and strange odors.

I noticed a table with a clearly printed sign saying “Hendrick”. According to the ad, this was the guy doing the hiring. Since I was the first one there, I sat down and opened a tab in Hendrick’s name – I’m sure he would have done it himself if he was there.

No sooner did I sit down, I ended up making the acquaintance of lovely female elf named eisapugpuuigfuiagysdfoygasoifgf or something like that. She was also applying for the job. Although I’ve never personally worked with elves, I’m not opposed to it. If she’s capable – great. If not she can always be our servant. I immediately got the upper hand with her when we met – she fell for it hook, line, and sinker that I’m Henddrick – with two d’s. She’s gullible – I like that in a woman.

Next person to sit down was a dour looking dwarf named Jimbo. The guy definitely seems formidable. I’m a firm believer in hiring muscle for every job. Why? Nine times out of 10 they’re dumb as a Bretonnian Ass Weasel. Throw in the fact he’s a dwarf – probably a drunk – and the split will work in your favor. If this guy is any good, he may fit the bill as a potential henchman for future jobs.

Finally, the old fella – Peedander. He’s a nice old man whose best years are behind him. Seriously, he’s one foot and four toes in the grave already. I can tell he’s in over his head – even if he is a wizard. That’s right – a wizard. I even watched him cast a spell where he turned himself into this glowing geriatric beacon. I’m not sure why he did that – it may be dementia. I watched him actually perform the incantation – it doesn’t look too hard. I should be able to pick it up pretty easy. I’ll hang around the old guy and make sure no one screws with him.

As for Hendrick? He’s pompous – like most of the high society. Although he’s hired us, he basically refuses to socialize with anyone. Well, that’s until I convinced him I had medical training. Jackass. Anyway, we’re now on our way to Grunewald Manor where we will be POSING as movers. The Lord of the Manor – Asshatenberg – apparently doesn’t trust his staff so we need to spy on them. Whatever. The quicker I can find what I’m looking for and get out of there – the better.

I’m still having trouble with my attention span and that worries me. Has the trail gone cold or did I lose it in a moment when the fog descended. I still have not decided if this is from the injury or if it’s something that was cast at the attack when I fell. When they fell. I know she still has to be alive. I can’t give up, I just can’t. What would he want with her though? Why didn’t he leave her for dead like the rest of us?

Someone asked if I’d been in the Empire long. Evidently not long enough. Perhaps I should have spent more time in cities and towns instead of chasing this lead through forests. Still, it’s not all that out of place for an elf to be seen in the forest, and walking about the streets of what the humans call civilization gathers more attention than I’d care to have.

I landed in Ubersreik the day before and had just sold off my pelts when I felt that familiar tingle while looking at a posting for a job, not that I’m looking for a job. Do I want to work as a mover pushing about furniture? No, and I told him so. What I don’t understand is how he expected to lure me to the job with the promise of finding beastmen. How does he know I’m hunting for…perhaps he didn’t. Am I going paranoid?

I decided to meet him at the tavern to hear him out. Filthy place. Dining in a muddy swamp would be cleaner. There were other applicants to the job. Good. Attention spent on other workers is less attention on me.

The first applicant, Henddrick, Otto Henddrick with two D’s. He looks nothing like Hendrick with one D. Loud, brash, con man are a few descriptives that come to mind right after vulgar as in his attitude towards my gender. Cooking indeed! My father was right. Humans are idiots.

And dwarfs? Impertinent. The applicant that arrived after me was just that, a rude dwarf. Why bother asking my full name and then make a rude comment about the expectant length of it. All I got of his was Jaimyn. I’ll just refer to him as Jaimyn Rudebeard.

Hendrick, one D, joined us with an ancient human. The ancient one seemed a great deal smarter than the others, asking the more suspicious questions and made some good points. Why would a female elf be employed as a mover? I could have just agreed with him and dropped out but I really do want to see those beastmen. There could be something about that, it might warm up the cold trail.

And now here I sit on this cart, dressed like the son of Otto, realizing that my hope was in vain, that at least the old man might carry the wisdom that Double D and Rudebeard could not expect to have.

There the old man sits, strapped to a crate like a wrinkled sack, glowing like a warm invitation. Come along bandits and beasts. The dinner light can be seen for miles through the trees. Dinner is served.

“You are dismissed.” The last time I heard those words spoken from a Master Wizard of Apprentices at the College of Light it ended my studies for over thirty years, yet I was hearing those words again as one of the eldest apprentices ever sent forth from the college on his noviate field research assignment. In truth I have learned what I needed to know from my apprentice-master, and now I am to be sent forth to apply that knowledge, and to prove my worth for continued education. I expect no one really thinks that I am going to return. Likely as not they all believe I will be eaten by a squig, or knifed in some dark alley for my purse. They may not be far from wrong. I must be careful however, I have worked too long for this and so much rests upon my gaining the knowledge I seek! Too much blood has already been spilled, and… well no. This is not the place or yet the time. I pen these words as I ride atop a rattling wagonload of supplies headed for a backwoods hunting lodge just south of Ubersriek (this explains the many ink blots). It is my intention to keep such notes as I can of my travels. If I can learn anything from my journeys that can help illumine the true nature of Magic, it must not be completely lost should my fate prove to be as my colleagues back at the college suspect.

The gritty details of how I find myself to be here are of little import, and will serve to educate no one of anything worthwhile, so I will not waste materials going over it in detail but rather just note the important events leading to my present situation. I was contacted by Graff Sisismund Von Jung Freud (* players note: seriously? Jung Freud?) a few days after my dismissal from the college. He was in an unusual disguise and approached me on the streets of Altdorf (I was unaware of the Graff’s identity at the time). He sought at first to flatter me, and then to bribe me, and in the end he threatened me to accept a mission on behalf of his family. He knows! I have no idea how he does, but he claims that he was related to the proprietor of the Rusty Spur. The reference is without any question related to the event two years ago, but even so how could he know I was there? I would have refused his pathetic attempts to influence me but for that threat, I had no choice at that point but to accept his offer of work. However, I now have reason to believe that it may work to my advantage. I was sent to the town of Ubersriech to meet with a man named Henderson, a servant of the Von Bruers. Henderson would hire me for work which would be a cover for a different task he was truly interested in, however my real task would be to seek out information on the missing Von Bruer boy for the Graff. I am to play a triple agent of sorts. Its ridiculously cloak and dagger and more suited to some sordid two pence spy novella, but what option do I have? However, things are becoming quite interesting. Two fortuitous events have occurred that have me wondering if Lady Fate is not playing poker with my whiskers. The first is the absolute suitability of my present companions for assisting me in my research, though they of course know nothing of it, nor should they. I would not needlessly risk them. The second is that I believe I have been led to the trail of that which I seek, for I smell the influence of Chaos in my current surroundings. I have no proof, merely strong suspicious.

My new companions bring with them a variety of talents that couldn’t be more perfect for my needs. I am too old for traipsing around the Old World chasing the agents of Chaos without ample protection, I know nothing of the practical application of nature craft which will be needed as I chase down leads from town to town. Additionally I have not the street wits to negotiate with the types I will likely have to bargain with in the days to come, yet here are three solid souls with exactly those skills. Jaimyn is as hard a breakwall as you could hope for, in fact even more so. I have read much of the legendary martial prowess of the Dwarvenfolk, their skill at arms is rivaled only by the High Folk of the west, and Jaimyn does not disappoint. If I am to have any success in chasing down information on the nature of Magic, I will absolutely need a stout shield to keep its agents from my neck. Eisadryil, now she is a surprise. A huntress of the High Folk seeking greater game in the forests of the Empire. While her presence is a wildly unexpected, it is of immense benefit to me that she is here, and I must find a way to entice her to remain in my company. While the worth of her bow and woodlore cannot be underestimated, it is her knowledge of her homeland and (I desperately hope) of the High Mage Tecilis that I hope to learn from her., and for that I will need to earn her confidence. Yes I must find a means to win her trust and favor. Lastly, but by no means the least is the young man Otto. He is an interesting fellow. I have met his like in my classes before. Extremely bright, and aware of it. Charming, and skilled at manipulation. I will likely never be sure if Otto is playing the fool, or playing a fool. I think were this young man given proper direction he could become almost anything he desires, but I could not say that he is not already exactly as he wishes. His horizon is set low I believe, and he is clearly a product of his environment. He seems to have taken a shine to me, and perhaps I can be of some assistance to him in bettering his circumstances. Regardless, this I do know, a life of hardship has been his tutor and he knows how to move in circles I have not stood in since I was a boy. I need this youngling. Indeed I need them all. I have been dealt an oddly perfect opportunity to accomplish my aims, and I must be careful to foster this motley collection of talent into a cohesive team and not let this chance go to waste.

Now, about this wagon…

It was with a heavy heart that I departed from the Company of the Claw, and I shook hands with each of my dwarven battle-brothers before heading out. Outcasts all of them, some by choice, some by force, despite their current ‘status’ they all still held a deep unspoken love for our people and our ways. I learned much in my time with them, and we fought side by side on more than one occasion. From Tar’nak, the quiet scout who was as much a shadow in the woodlands as any wood elf, to Sulnar the Trollslayer who sought his own glorious death yet still had a thirst for life, I shall miss them all.

But my path leads south, following the rumors and signs of recent Beastman activity. They were just that – rumors, but instead of sending our entire company south, it was decided that I would go alone to determine if there was more truth to these rumors than fiction.

The journey was uneventful, and soon I found myself in the human village of Ubersreik, sitting in a shit-hole of a tavern listening to rumors and gathering some much needed rest. I heard the usual tales of human silliness, most of it dealing with crops and cows and worried about whose wife was sleeping with whose husband. A boring, silly mess. Thankfully, I had met enough humans in my time away from home that I knew that this lot of riff-raff did not represent all of humanity – thank the gods.

It was during this rest, though, that I noticed a message posted on the wall. Reading it closer, it appeared that some well-off local noble was looking to hire ‘movers’, people with stout arms and backs to help move furniture and goods into his new home. That by itself would not interest me, but it did mention that there was ‘danger’ involved, and I had to wonder what sort of furniture would give cause for movers to be worried of danger! My interest piqued, I ventured to meet the agent who arrived in this very taven, each day, searching for more aid.

That he was unable to easily get the number of ‘movers’ he needed also caught my eye. My leads on the whereabouts of the Beastmen (if there were any) had dried up, and I always kept my eye out for ways to make more coin. So I met this agent, who then told me that I would need to ‘interview’ with the manservant of the noble who was seeking this aid. Interview! Me! Lucky for him, I was in a good mood and resisted the urge to demonstrate my ‘qualifications’ upside this idiot’s head, and so my hammer remained at my hip, and my temper in check.

I arrived at the appointed time and place, my curiosity risen. At the table assigned for the meeting, I spied a human male, and an elven female.

My nose rankled at first upon spying the elf. I had not seen many of their kind since I left home, and to date all of their actions and manners have confirmed everything I had read and heard about their arrogance. Yet, I still endeavor to not judge their people as a whole. Perhaps this one might prove different? She said her name as “Eisa”, though I am fairly certain that her ‘real’ name is entirely too long for any normal person to pronounce.

The human seemed shifty and shady from the start. He claimed to be the person we were to meet, but then quickly recanted his story when confronted on the subject. Eventually he confessed that his name was Otto, but it was difficult to tell if that was simply another fabricated name or not. He did not bear any weapons that I could see, so perhaps he had other skills that might come in hand if this job truly proved to be ‘dangerous’?

Or, perhaps the man was simply a ‘mover’.

The person running the meeting, Vern Hendrick, made his appearance, and as we began, he fetched another man from a nearby table to join us. This other man, an elderly human, introduced himself as Peander. It stuck me as odd how a human so old and frail might be able to contribute to moving heavy objects as part of this ‘crew’, but perhaps he was along for other reasons. Even the manservant who spoke to us indicated that Peander might very well provide a sense of ‘style’ with his decorative skills, though in honesty, I remained unconvinced and skeptical. We were promised six silver each for this job that would only take a single day to complete. A princely sum for so little effort. But my leads to date seemed to indicate that this place we were headed, might have something to do with the increased Beastman activity nearby. So I attend to it gladly.

We were put up for the evening and scheduled to set out the next day. Otto had taken quite the liking to Peander especially. Perhaps the man had a grand-father he was fond of that Peander reminded him of, I am not sure. For his part, Peander admitted he was a wizard of some sort. While magic is not something unknown to the dwarves, our ‘style’ of wizardry is set in runes and enchantments, whilst many of our kind have a natural resistance to magic in general. Peander’s magic promised to be of an entirely different sort, and I confess I am eager to see it in action.

The elf woman remained mostly quiet, and needless to say I was quite impressed to see that she carried a crossbow on her back, rather than the typical elven longbow. Impressed and surprised. That raised my impression of her considerably, that she would recognize the superiority found in the quality and engineering of a crossbow over the elven weapon made from twig and string. Perhaps there is more to her than meets the eye afterall, though I still shall not offer my hand to her in friendship, when so many of her kind have spit on it in spite.

I look forward to the journey tomorrow. We shall uncover any shenanigans taking place at the estate and if there is a Chaos presence there, we shall eradicate it with extreme prejudice.

Just like Bilbo Baggins when he left his hobbit-hole, every journey has a beginning!

Corey searched the world over for a set of four people who would become companions for his quest. He searched high and low (and perhaps even a little lower) until he found them, and by Grabthar’s Light, he found them all living in the same geographical area, a place called, “PortlandVancouver”, in the land of “WashingtonOregon” in the realm of “America”.

These brave souls would be his agents for his quest, a quest that was thousands of years in the making!

Will they survive? Will they be victorious? Or will they all end up in the bellies of slugs or get lost in the Underrealm of the cursed rat-men?

So many questions that do not yet have answers, but one thing is for sure – the journey is about to begin!